


Dance While the Music Still Goes On

by spikesgirl58



Series: ABBA/Foothills [79]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon and Illya, along with Matt and Rocky, head back to New York where Illya and Matt are being honored.  Guess who's waiting for them at the airport...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance While the Music Still Goes On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jkkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkkitty/gifts).



It was the sort of day that just exploded.  Napoleon stared out the window at the line of aspen trees, their leaves a brilliant yellow against a sky that was so blue it made his eyes ache.  Around them, oaks, elms, liquid amber trees were equally clothed in reds, oranges, even purple.  Fall had come to the Foothills and Napoleon couldn’t be happier or relieved.

The summer had been long and hot.  Illya was never his best in the heat and the hot weather had dragged them all down.  Then, one day, a break and the temperatures dropped a bit.  Then a bit more and Napoleon did his happy dance secretly in the bathroom, hoping beyond hope that fall was finally on its way.

There was a brief fling with the nineties at the end of September and finally the days cooled and the nights grew nippy.  Napoleon woke to find Illya nestled close as opposed to being on the edge of the bed, as close to the air conditioning unit as possible.  Yes, fall was all right in Napoleon Solo’s book.

When they were still living in New York and tied to UNCLE a lifetime away, he used to love to take a week and drive around New England, enjoying the foliage.  He would pile Illya, usually still groggy from overwork, into a car and off they would go, stopping when they felt like it.  At times, they would stay at a small motel or inn, while other times they would stay in a boardinghouse.  During that week, life was theirs.  It never seemed quite as sweet any other time of the year.

Napoleon chuckled.  Back in New York, they were always running here and there, always busy saving the world.  There was never enough time, enough money, enough anything.  Illya leaving him was the best and the worst thing that could have happened.  It had been the wakeup call Napoleon needed to stop worrying about everyone else in the world and start concentrating upon what was really important.

While it was true they were busier then, now the days were a pleasant mix of work and pleasure.  Napoleon loved his little store and helping people pick a nice bottle of wine for dinner or as a gift.  He loved just being able to stop and talk to his customers and the villagers.  In New York, Napoleon’s neighbors were strangers – they would pass in the hall with barely a murmur of recognition between them.  Here he knew everyone and they knew him.  He didn’t walk into a store, a restaurant or winery without being greeted with a cheerful shout of recognition.

Napoleon now had enough money to never work another day in his life and yet he was working harder than he ever had.  During the day, he worked at Vinea and at night he split his time between acting in their small community theatre and helping out at Taste.  The days tumbled one into the other and he enjoyed every minute of it – because Illya was at his side.

Someone cut across the parking lot and Napoleon pushed his reading glasses up onto his head.  It then took Napoleon all of five seconds to recognize the postman and he stood and walked hurriedly to the door.

Opening it, Napoleon took a deep breath.  The air was cool and crisp against his face and the breeze carried the scene of smoke.  Someone was either burning leaves or had started up a fireplace.  After the hot dry air of the summer, this was, well a breath of fresh air.  

“Hey, Danny!”  He waved to the approaching man and Danny grinned.

“How are you today, Napoleon?  Fabulous day, isn’t it?  I don’t think I’ve seen the leaves this beautiful this early in the season.  I bet the apples will taste great.  Will you be having an apple dessert at Taste?”

Napoleon wasn’t sure if Danny was just lonely or a chatterbox by nature, but the man never seemed to stop talking long enough to actually hear anything that was said to him.

“I am fine, thank you.  Anything interesting today?”

“Usual assortment, although I have a registered letter for Chef.  Would he mind if you signed for it?  Rocky signed for Matt’s letter.”  Danny handed Napoleon three bundles of rubber-banded envelopes and a mass of magazines and catalogs.  “And you got a mess of these today.  I feel like I’m carrying a tree.”

“I don’t think the post office allowed that.”  

“Well, maybe in the big city, but out here, it doesn’t matter quite as much.  I guess they think we know what we’re doing.  You can never tell what they are doing in those big cities.  I went to the city once, it was big, really big.” Nodding at Danny’s prattling, Napoleon took the clipboard and signed on the line.  The man never missed a beat. 

“Guess Christmas must be coming.  You can always tell by the number of catalogs that arrive.”  Napoleon scrawled his name on the line and took the envelope.

“They like you and Chef.  You must order a lot from them.”  Danny took the clipboard from Napoleon and started away.  “Gorgeous day today.  Makes a man glad he’s not stuck in an office somewhere doing something.”

“Have a good day, Danny.”  Napoleon watched as Danny wandered away, still talking.  When Napoleon had first met Danny, he thought the man was a bit touched, but now he realize the man just talked and talked and talked.

A blast of decidedly cool air hit Napoleon and he shivered slightly.   Napoleon ducked back into the house and carried the armful of mail over to the desk.  One bundle was for Taste and he set that aside for Illya’s perusal later.  The second was Vinea’s and he quickly sorted through the envelopes.  At this time of year, all the wineries were gearing up for holiday open houses and Napoleon intended on hitting as many as he could.  He did it not to just sample the new products, but it made good business sense.  He worked hard developing relationships with as many of the local wineries as he could.  It had served him well in the past.  With any luck, he’d be able to drag Illya along for some of them.

The last packet was their personal mail, although most of it wasn’t all that personal.  He patted his pocket for his reading glasses, but couldn’t find them.  Instead, he held the envelopes out at arm’s length and squinted.  He separated the bills, trade magazines and advertisements from the other correspondence.   Then he studied the registered letter.  It had a New York postmark and a return address of the James Bread Institute.  He set it aside and reached for the letter opener.  He might as well tackle the bills first.

The sound of kitchen door opened told Napoleon that Illya had returned from his morning run.  It was just the excuse Napoleon needed and he dropped the mail.  He made it as far as the dining room table before Illya exited the kitchen.

The man was wearing a grey sweatshirt and matching jogging pants.  The front of the shirt was stained and Illya’s hair was askew in a dozen directions. His face was flushed and damp with sweat.  Napoleon couldn’t think of a better sight.

“Morning.  I picked up…” Illya managed before Napoleon captured his mouth in a kiss.  For a long moment, they stood, in each other’s arms, kissing, renewing their bond and rejoicing in their love.  Eventually, Illya pulled away and turned.

“Where are you going?”

Illya pointed towards the kitchen.  “Back out.”

“Why?”

The smile was impish.  “So I can come in and get another welcome like the one I just got.”

“No need.”  The next kiss was much longer and a bit more involved and left both a little breathless.

“And they say there’s no excitement among senior citizens.”  Napoleon nuzzled Illya’s ear.

“They haven’t been looking in our windows then.  I brought breakfast.  Jesus sent over a half dozen pumpkin empanadas.”

“Devil, I’ve died and gone to heaven.  Why don’t you bake, Illya?”

“Not my favorite thing to do in the kitchen.  Baking is very exacting, more like a science.  I prefer cooking.  It’s more causal.”

“But correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. PhD of Quantum Engineering, but aren’t you a scientist?”

“Once upon a time… what’s that?”

Napoleon followed Illya’s gaze.  “Oh , you got a registered letter from the Bread Institute.”

“The Bread Institute?  White or wheat?”  Illya wiggled free of Napoleon’s arms and snatched up the letter.  “Oh for crying out… the Beard Institute, Napoleon.  You really should wear your glasses.”

“Couldn’t find them,” Napoleon admitted. Illya reached up and pulled them off Napoleon’s head. “Ah, there they are.”   He tucked them away into his pocket and headed for the kitchen.  He could resist many things in his life, but Jesus’s empanadas were not on that list.  They were sweet and buttery, a treat for the eyes, nose and especially the mouth.

He walked out of the kitchen, happily munching away, then stopped.  Illya was standing in the middle of the living room, looking very much like a deer in headlights.  Napoleon immediately set the pastry down and went to his lover’s side.  He took the letter from Illya’s loose grasp and started to scan it.  “Bad news?”

“No… not exactly.”

“Danny said that Matt got something similar.  It says here you won some award?  Is this good?”

“If Matt got the same letter, it’s a deal breaker for him.  He’ll be able to go to any big city in the country and cook at just about any restaurant.  It doesn’t get any bigger than this.” 

“What about you, _Amante_?  A deal breaker for you as well?”

“Not as much.  I mean, I’m at the end of the line and I’ve got what I want.  Taste is everything I set out to accomplish.  Even if I was offered another place, I’d never leave.  This is home now.”

Napoleon gathered Illya into his arms.  It’s funny they always assumed Illya was the strong one, but the man was surprisingly fragile at times. “You are worried about losing Matt?”  

The head resting against his shoulder nodded.  “I’d be lost without him.”  Illya took a deep breath. “And Rocky, too, but I can’t stop them.  This is an enormous opportunity for both of them.  I can’t hold them back.  I won’t.  This is too big.”

“Why don’t you let them be the judge of that?”  Napoleon kissed Illya’s temple.  “Besides aren’t you the one always telling me to not borrow trouble?”

Just then there was a loud knock on the door and Matt burst in, followed closely by Rocky.  The redhead was waving a letter.  “ _Cara, Cara_ , you will not believe –“

“I would.”  Illya held up his own letter.  “This is incredible news for you, Mattie.”

“I can’t believe we are being inducted into their hall of fame,” Matt said, laughing and hugging Illya while still jumping up and down.

“Why not?”  Rocky seemed puzzled and Matt turned back to him.

“Well, _mio tesos,_ it’s an honor reserved for great chefs.”

Rocky grinned.  “And again, I ask, why not?”

“I really think he doesn’t have a clue, Rocky, my boy.”  Napoleon held out a hand and pulled Matt into a hug.  “I can’t think of two people who deserve this more.”  

“I think you are missing the big picture here, Matt.”  Illya looked over to Napoleon for strength.  “This is your ticket out of this place.”

“ _No capisco, Cara._   Oh, you mean, to New York.  _Si, si_  that would be nice,” Matt said with a sigh.  “I’ve never seen New York.”

“No, I mean Jackson.  This award means you can go anywhere and do anything.”

“But, _Cara_ , I’m already doing that.”  He bent over to pick up Fremir.  Instantly the cat’s siblings were right there for their own share of attention.  “Why would I leave my home, my friends and my community to go somewhere that affords me none of that?  I love Jackson and I love Taste.”  Roux stretched up and hooked her claws into Matt’s jeans.  “Ouch, you, _piccolo mostroI,_ perhaps you I would miss not so much.  Still, New York... it is beautiful there at night”  

Napoleon smiled at the relief in Illya’s eyes.  “Why can’t you go, Matt?  It can’t be a matter of money.  I will be more than happy to spring for tickets.”  

Matt smiled sadly, “Who would look after Taste, _Cara_?  Chef, he can go for both of us.”

“Illya?”

“No, Matt, you should be the one.  I’m nearing the end of my career, but you are just starting.  You should go.”

“Isn’t there any way both of you could go?” Rocky asked.  “Mr. S and I can hold down the fort here.”

“I wouldn’t go without you,” Matt murmured.

Napoleon looked over at Illya.  The blond had a look in his eyes that bespoke of something afoot.  “Illya?”

“I may have a plan.”

“What?”

Illya shook his head.  “No, I need to think about this first.  If it works out, I will let you know.”

 

                                                                                ****

Napoleon carried a carton of wine bottles in through the front door, running the gambit of cats with practiced ease.  “This isn’t for you.  Why do you think every box that enters this house is destined to be a toy for you?”

“Possibly because the living room is full of empty boxes that you have converted from garbage to a feline playground.”  Illya was wiping his hands on a white bar towel.  “Another wine tasting?”

“Yup.  There are two more cases in the car.  Would you mind?”

“That’s all I am to you, a pretty face and a strong back.”

“Don’t forget a cute ass.”  Napoleon carried the box to their wine locker and set it to the side.  He’d converted a closet during their remodel.  Now they had a proper place to store wine in the house.  Illya grumbled, but Napoleon noticed Illya had no trouble storing bottles of his favorite wines in there.

Illya came in, carrying the cases and Napoleon shook his head.  “You only had to bring one.  I could have gotten the other.”

“These weigh a lot less than a full stock pot.”  Illya set his box on top of the first one.  “Anything worth drinking in there?”

“You are breaking my heart.”  Napoleon started to rack the bottles.

“Consider it all in a day’s work.  Pick out something fairly robust.  I’m doing beef bourguignon tonight.”

Napoleon grinned and rubbed his hands together happily.  “Beef bourguignon, you say?  And some of your creamy cheese polenta?”  Then he paused at Illya’s nod.  

“Yes, with stuffed crawfish as a starter and Bananas Foster for dessert.”

“That’s great… wait, what’s the catch?”

“No catch.  We’re having guests tonight and I thought IT would be nice to serve something other than TV dinners and mac and cheese.”

“Who’s coming?” 

“Matt, Rocky –“

“They aren’t guest.  They’re family.”

“… Paul and his wife.”

This made Napoleon stop and his brow furrowed with concentration.  “Paul?  Do I know Paul?”

“You will.”

“What does he do?”

“He teaches the advanced culinary class down at the American Culinary Institute in Sacramento.  We went through our final training together.”

“He’s in town on business?”

“You could say that.”

“Illya, why are you being so vague?”

“Am I?”  The smallest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Illya’s mouth.  “I don’t mean to be.  It’s a bit of a surprise for Matt.  All I ask is that you trust me… and set the table.”  
  


                                                                                *****

“We are on final approach to JFK.  We need everyone to lock their tray tables into place up and return their seats to the upright position…”

Napoleon sat forward and stretched his back.  “I think it was a stroke of genius bringing in the advanced culinary class to run Taste for the week.”  

“I figured that since the ceremony is on Wednesday--”

“I’ve been meaning to ask.  Why a Wednesday?”

“Usually it’s the hardest night to get guests in for a restaurant.  As I was saying, as we are only missing four actual days at the restaurant, it will give them some practical knowledge while still in a controlled environment.  We’ll be back in plenty of time to ramp up for the holidays.”

“How do you think Taste is going to hold up with Paul at the helm?”

“I’m more worried about my guys driving Paul to ground and out of the industry forever. Running a restaurant is much different than talking about running a restaurant.”

“It’s great that you are bringing those students in to experience life on the front line, as it were.  

“Real life is a great teacher.  This may give some of them the answers they need as to whether or not they are cut out for this kind of life.  I know that working in a real kitchen was the turning point for me.  The classwork was great, but to actually prepare the food and know that it was going to a real person, not a fellow classmate, there’s no feeling like it.”  Illya looked around his seat, making sure he had everything.  From the notes he’d been making, Napoleon could tell Illya was working on yet another cookbook.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a nonstop to New York.  How did we do it in the old days?”

Illya was tucking his notepad into his carry on and nodded.  “I suspect that we caught up on sleep, healed, or prepared for our next assignment.  Or rather, I did.  As I recall, you were usually too busy flirting.”

Napoleon grinned and interlaced his fingers behind his head.  “Oh, yes, I sort of remember now.  Of course, I wasn’t married then.”

“And it is admirable that you exercised control on this flight.”

“It’s not the same now.  Why go looking for a sip of water when I have a Great Lake by my side?”

“Good answer.”  

Napoleon watched the flight attendant carrying a plastic bag down the aisle.  “Still, I wish I could remember a bit more about the old days.  You?”

“I thought for a long time, it was okay and that I was okay with the memories.  Trust me, Napoleon.  Your’s is the better way.”  

Illya pushed the small satchel until the seat in front of him as Napoleon looked across the aisle at Rocky and Matt, both excited trying to see out the small window.  “Do you ever wish you could go back…?”

“Sometimes.  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.”  Beneath the thin blue blanket Illya had over his lap, his hand found Napoleon’s.  “But I rather am content with how things turned out.”  He squeezed the hand and Napoleon returned the gesture.

“I could have done without the years in between.  Looking for you, so excited when a new lead turned up, so devastated when they panned out.”

“They needed to happen to make us the men we are now.”  Illya released Napoleon’s hand as the flight attendant moved closer to them.

“Old, cranky, nearly blind, and prone to gas?”

Illya smiled at Rocky as the younger man spotted the New York skyline.  “At least we are among friends.”

                                                                                ****

Napoleon hefted his suitcase from the carousel and carried it to where Matt and Illya waited.  

“Still nothing?”  Napoleon glanced to where Rocky stood by the conveyor belt, a hand running through his brown hair.  He looked over at Napoleon and hunched his shoulders.  Then his head tilted and back and he laughed.  “I think we found the last bag.”

“Now comes the hard part.” Illya shifted his suitcase to his left hand.  “Now we need a cab.”

They had stepped out onto the sidewalk as a pair of men wearing dark trench coats looked at them, appeared to check something and then started walking towards them.

“Illya?” Napoleon’s voice was low, but cautionary.

“I don’t believe it.  After all these years?  How did THRUSH even know we were coming?”  Illya set his suitcase down and turned to gestured for Matt and Rocky to come closer.  He slipped his arms around their shoulders and spoke quietly.  “You two, if I say run, head back into the airport and find security.  Don’t stop and don’t look back.”

“You gonna turn into a pillar of salt, Chef?” Rocky asked, grinning.  At Illya’s serious expression, he sobered.  “You’re serious.”

“I am deadly serious.  Remember that job I told you about, the one before I learned how to cook?”

“Yes, you were a cop.”

“Of a fashion.  Those two coming towards us, they might be from the other camp and if that’s the case, this could get very ugly.”

“What about you, Chef?”  Now Rocky was frowned and glaring at the approaching men.

“Don’t even think about us.  Napoleon and I… we can take care of ourselves.”  He released the men and turned, standing in front of them.  Napoleon took up a position on Illya’s flank.

The pair stopped and studied the group.  Then the taller of the pair asked, “Mr. Solo?  Mr. Kuryakin?”

“That would largely depend upon who is making the inquiry,” Napoleon answered.  His mouth might be smiling, but his eyes were all business. 

“Your uncle sent us,” the man responded.

“You have an uncle in New York?” Matt blurted out and Illya nodded slightly.

“We used to.  I thought he was dead and buried, along with our memories of him.”

“How would he know we were coming?” Matt continued and the man’s eyes narrowed.

The other man reached slowly into his breast pocket and Illya stiffened.  Deliberately cautious, the man withdrew a small ID wallet, flipping it open with one hand.  “He said it would be our pleasure to escort you and your party to your hotel.  Some of the locals have long memories and he didn’t want your vacation ruined.  This is a vacation, isn’t it?”

“After a fashion,” Illya muttered.  “Business first.”

Napoleon adjusted the lapels of his suit jacket.  “It’s a nice gesture, but I think we will take our chances with local transportation.  Tell our uncle that we appreciate it, but no thanks.  We don’t have anything anyone wants anymore.”  

“Are you sure?”

Napoleon nodded slowly.  “Yes, we are sure.  I am certain that he knows where we are staying.  That’s will have to be enough for him.”  Napoleon gestured to Matt and Rocky.  “Gentlemen, shall we?”

As they walked to the taxi queue, Rocky murmured, “Why do I have a feeling we are part of an old Hitchcock film?”

“I’ll explain in the cab,” Napoleon replied as they stepped up to a yellow vehicle.

“Then you better have him take the scenic route.”  Illya dropped his suitcase by the cab’s trunk.  “It’s going to take a while.”

                                                                                ****

Illya did his best not to appear bored, but Napoleon knew all the signs.  He and Rocky were seated at a table just to the right of the main table.  Matt and Illya sat to the left of the MC and they had just finished a lackluster dinner.  Or at least it was lackluster in Napoleon’s opinion.  Illya leaned over and whispered something to Matt, whose head bobbed in agreement.

“What do you think they are talking about?” Rocky asked, taking a sip of water.

“Well, if I know Illya and Matt--”

“As we do.”

“Illya is deconstructing the food. Matt has picked apart the sauces and they are hard at work reimagining the meal to their qualifications.”

“That’s sounds about right.  What do you want to bet we are going to see that clam dish on the menu next go around?”

“It’ll depend upon how quickly they can tweak the sauce.  I’m thinking it will be a starter.”

“Possibly, although this isn’t the best time for clams.  He might want to use mussels and that will make a big difference in the sauce.”

“So, how are you two connected with the recipients this evening?”  Both men broke off, suddenly aware that everyone at the table was watching them.

“We’re partners,” Napoleon said and Rocky hid his smile behind a napkin.  

“Business partners?”

“In a manner of speaking.  We… work together.”

The MC started then and all of them turned their attention to the speaker.  He was some big name in culinary circles, but Napoleon didn’t know of him and Illya was less than impressed.

There was the usual tale of hard work and striving for excellence.  None of this was new to Napoleon.  He knew how much it had taken for Illya to achieve this, but one would never know it to look at him.  It was hard to believe that Illya was twenty years older than the redhead at his side.

Illya stood and walked to the podium, accepting a stylized award.

“This award was earned through the hard work of many people.  I accept it in their names and stand here as a symbol of what hard work and pigheaded stubbornness can get you.  I started my cooking career just a few months short of my fortieth birthday.  I didn’t know what to expect or even if I would be any good at it, but I do know that none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for the help of a very special man who saw an old man struggling with a paper and decided he needed a hand.  He has been my mentor, my friend, my partner, and my confidant for many years.  Thank you, Matt.”  There was a round of applause and Illya held up his hand.  “But there is someone else who is responsible for all of this.  Napoleon, I could have never done this without you.  Thank you for being my rock, my center, and my everything.”  Looking straight at Napoleon, Illya mouthed, _Love you._ And Napoleon’s heart felt as if it would explode from happiness.

                                                                                *****

The horse-drawn carriage moved slowly and Napoleon pulled Illya closer.  The driver wasn’t paying any attention to them.  However since they were all buried beneath blankets, it was impossible to tell where one man started and another began.

“A penny for your thoughts, Mr. S.”  Rocky was sitting next to Matt and pulled him closer.  “And you, why so sad?”  

The redhead was staring off into the night sky, sighing now and again.  “Are you sure we have to go home tomorrow?” Matt murmured wistfully.

“Don’t tell me you want to stay here?”  Illya winked at Napoleon.  “Is the big city stealing your heart from us?”

“No, it’s just… there’s so much here.  So much to do.  So much to see.”

“If you want something to see and do, I’ll let you clean the grease trap when we get home,” Illya said and then laughed at Matt’s horrified expression.  “Just checking.”

“I know what he means, though.” Napoleon took a deep breath.  “There seems as if there is a lot to do, Matt, but in the end, it is just another spot on the map.  Living here, you don’t see the lights and the glamour.  You see the dirt and the noise.  You see the hard edges of struggling with strangers who are just as intent upon existing as you.  In the end, this is like any other big city and you are a small bit of fluff that gets lost in the mix.”

“But you used to live here, Mr. S.”

“We both did and when we did, this was home.  Now it is just a sea of strangers.  Perhaps you have more choices here than in Jackson after the sun goes down.”

“I, for one, am counting the minutes until we climb back on that plane,” Illya said.  “It’s been nice, the shows, the dinners, the ceremony, but this isn’t who I am anymore.”

“And who’s that, _cara?_ ” 

“Illya Kuryakin, proud resident of Jackson, ready, willing and able to live up to the challenges of living in a small town.”

“And I just happen to have…”  Napoleon pulled out a hamper he’d been carrying.  “Some champagne to close out our adventure here.  Rocky, my boy, would you do the honors?

“Absolutely.”  Rocky took a napkin and settled it over his knee.  Taking the wire basket off, he covered the cork and eased it out of the bottle.  It came free with just a whisper of sound.  He poured a glass and passed it.  When they all had a glass, Napoleon lifted his.

 “Let’s drink a toast.  To the men we were, the men we will be and to love we hope we will always have.”

Tomorrow they would fly out and tomorrow night at this time they would be back in their own bed, in their own home, in their own town and Napoleon Solo, once a man of the world, couldn’t think of a sweeter treat.  Well, besides the one sitting beside him.

 


End file.
